What Happens in Vegas
by Covert Commander
Summary: After a stressful meeting in Vegas, America and England decide to let of steam by hitting the clubs. Sometimes, what happens in Vegas doesn't always stay in Vegas. USUK
1. Chapter 1

The world meeting was to meet in America's country this year. America liked this because he didn't have to go through agonizing airport details that completely annoyed him. Sure, he had to go all the way to Nevada, but it was a _hell_ of a lot quicker than Europe. This meeting was held in Vegas. America was elated, not because he had to go to a meeting, but afterwards he could go to the casino. _Slots and sluts all the way, baby! _He thought to himself.

After every nation in the world was thoroughly aggravated in the meeting, they all recouped in the hotel's lobby. America talked to almost every nation about the after party, courtesy of himself. From across the room, he saw England. He didn't exactly know what to call him. His friend? His ex-guardian? Ex-brother? Or whatever. Things had been tense between them since the Revolution. He really did want them to be friends, honestly, but every time he tried to, England would shoot him down.

America walked to the British nation, "Hey Britain! What's up?"

"Anything taller than me." England said, taking a drink of his tea, not looking to the American.

America nervously laughed, "Yeah, guess so. Good joke, didn't know you had it in you."

"It wasn't supposed to be a joke, wanker." He said.

America scratched the back of his head, "Uh okay then, are-are you doing anything tonight?" he asked.

"No." England said.

"Great! Then some of us are going to hit the clubs and get some drinks. Maybe, you'd like to come with us." America offered.

"No thank you." England stubbornly said.

"Aw, c'mon! Don't be such a loner. Besides as nations we get free drinks," he inched closer, "Whaddaya say?"

"Say it right, and I'll consider it." Britain said.

"Ugh, 'what do you say to a night on the town with me'?" he persisted.

England looked to the younger nation, he rolled his eyes, "Fine, I'll come."

"Awesome! I'll see you at eight." America left.

England stood out of the lobby, he checked his watch. It read about eight o'clock, America was coming any second.

"Hey, Britain!" America came up behind him. "Ready to go?"

"Where's everybody else?" England asked.

"I don't know, I told them eight. I guess they'll meet up with us later." America took England's shoulder and turned him to walk out of the door. "Anyway, I said eight, they weren't here, so we left. Let's go." America guided Britain out the door.

They managed to find a club that was just right for the older nation to handle on his first night in Vegas.

"Bartender, get us a couple of shots." Alfred said over the loud music and people talking. America was handed two small glasses filled with alcohol. He handed one to England.

"I just thought you should know, America, I don't usually drink." England said while taking his drink.

"Neither do I, but we don't have any more work, so why not hang loose?" America asked.

Britain, not exactly sure what 'hang loose' meant, drank down the drink along with the American.

**37 shots later…**

"Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!" the crowd roared as the British man downed his large drink, standing on top of the bar. By this time he'd already lost his shirt and tie somewhere in the crowd. The whole bar erupted with cheers as he finished his drink and threw it to the wall.

He looked down to the see America, whom was also cheering along with the crowd. He curled his finger, cueing the American to get on the table with him. America stood on a bar stool and was lifted by England so they were both the center of attention.

The bartender handed England another drink. The Brit leaned America's head back and pinched his nose. He poured the lime green daiquiri down America's throat. The two soaked up all the attention being given to them.

Somewhere in the crowd, someone shouted, "Body Shots!" above the music and cheers.

America pointed out to the crowd of drunken people, "Good idea!"

England laid his back on the top of the counter with a line of salt going down to his navel; he had a small glass of alcohol in his mouth. America licked up to Britain's diaphragm then took the shot from his mouth. He leaned his head back to consume the drink. America stood and then helped up England.

"Now you gotta return the favor, British dude!" the bartender, probably intoxicated as well, said.

England looked unsure, "I don't know, he's not the thinnest-" he started saying, being interrupted by American slowly removing his shirt to show off a secret six pack, gaining thousands of female shrieks. The Brit stood there in awe of his hidden muscles, tight skin, and the ever-so-sexy 'v' that went down into his pants. And with that, they did the same thing, but with switched roles. Although, America noticed England used the tip of his tongue to like up the salt line, he found it very sexual.

Once their whole fiasco on the top of the bar was finished, they founder their way to a booth in the back of the bar that was kind of secluded. The both had lost their shirts when they threw them to females in the crowd, so neither of them wore their shirts. They sat down in the booth, trying to seize their laughter.

"Wow, I didn't think you were this fun." America said.

"I'm not, that's just the booze."England replied.

"Whatever, man. I love this side of you." America said.

"Yeah well, don't go used to it." Britain chuckled.

"Hey, England, do you think we could do this more often? Not the whole get shit-faced drunk, but we should hang out more." America said.

"Well, it's be easier if you place wasn't so far away." England said, scooting closer. He looked to America with his eyes half-lidded, inching to his face per second.

"Yeah, it would be more convenient if we were closer, huh?" America said noncommittally, for he, too, was leaning in to Britain's face.

"You know… all these times I've gone to the States; I've never been to Florida." England said, still getting closer to America.

"And I've never seen Big Ben." America said in a flirtatious tone. Both knew the other caught their innuendos.

"Would you take me… there?" Britain seductively whispered in the American's ear.

Later that night they returned to America's hotel room. He tried to open the door with his key card, but England came up behind him and dove his hands down the American's pants. He touched the younger nation's junk and then palmed it. America fell standing up to the door and clenches his fists. He let out a moan that told England what he was doing felt great.

"Looks like Florida is going to have a heat wave tonight." England teased.

America gave a moan and a chuckle at the same time. England turned him around and they both started attacking each other's mouths. They didn't go to kissing and then slowly sliding their tongues into the other's mouth, no, they went full on sucking tongues.

America slid his card into the slot and they sloppily hustled into his room. Once inside, England hopped onto the American's grab and wrapped his legs around the taller blonde's hips, crashing everything that was on a table top. America held the British nation up by his ass. England, while licking _every_ part of America's mouth, was also running his fingers through all of the sandy blonde hair.

They made their way to the bedroom where America crashed England onto the bed. Flashes of memories throughout the night went through their minds. No one could pin point at a specific time. All they knew was that it was a fantastic night, in which they'd have to pay for in the morning.

America grumbled to the morning light in his face. He wasn't exactly sure what happened after a few drinks with England last night. All he knew now was that he had his arms draped around a young blonde. He didn't usually prefer short hair on women, but this one seemed to pull it off nicely. Judging by the fact that she had the blankets under her armpits, revealing her bare shoulders, America deducted that she was still naked and last night they must've had sex. Hopefully, she wouldn't be too offended if he told her he didn't remember most of it.

…

England on the other hand, also woke up with case of drunken amnesia. He blinked his emerald eyes a few times before he realized he wasn't in his room. Seconds after that, he realized there were arms around him. Muscular arms, he deducted _he_ was the bottom last night with this stranger. He fidgeted his way to see how good he was at picking up men in his drunken state of mind. England turned around to face his one-night-stand. Not too bad. _Guess this old dog can still sniff out a good trail._ He thought. Gorgeous face, blond hair, muscular. The man opened his eyes; clear blue… they were beautiful. He looked to the top of the man's head; a cowlick was there. Almost reminded him of… America.

America opened his eyes to see that his partner for the night had turned around. She had pretty eyes. Eyes almost like England's. Wait…

They stared blankly at each other until seconds later when they screamed in each other's faces. They pushed away from each other as fast as they could. Both were standing on either side of the huge bed. They two blonds saw that they were both still nude.

England reached for the blankets from the bed to cover up, "Cover yourself up, stupid wanker!" He yelled to the American.

America reached for a big white pillow and placed it over his genitals, "Dude, why are you naked in my bed?!" America yelled to the Brit.

"Are you really that daft to not put together what we did last night?" England shouted.

"Wait, do _you_ remember it?" America asked.

"N-no," The Briton said sheepishly, "but it's obvious. Two men, naked, in a bed together…?"

"You got your logic all wrong, old man. I'm not gay." America defended for himself.

"Judging by the ache in my back, I'd say you _are_… and not very good at it for that matter." Britain said.

"Shit." America said quietly. He sat on the bed and rubbed his temples.

England showed some sympathy towards the lad. "Listen, I can just get my clothes, head back to my room, and we can just forget this whole thing even happened. You don't tell anyone, I don't tell anyone, deal?" he said, already reaching to the floor for his clothing. Noting his shirt was missing, but his jacket was still there.

"Uh, yeah. I guess that would work." America peeked over his shoulders to see England pulling his pants up and buttoning. He placed his arms through the jacket to put it on as well.

England walked to a mirror and combed out his light blonde hair with his fingers. Once finished, he turned to face America. Nervously, he spoke, "Uhm… a-anyway, I'll, uh, just be going then…" he slowly backed his way towards the door and out of the awkward room. He looked to the door knob as he turned it to exit.

America looked to the wall, trying to wrap his head around him and England… doing it. It made him shudder in disgust just thinking about it. All of a sudden, he felt a quick slap across the back of his head. "Ow! What the hell was that for?!" He rubbed his head.

"What the hell is this?!" England asked furiously with a hand on his hip. He held up his left hand to show a wedding ring on his third finger. "You think this is _funny,_ wanker?" he shouted.

"Dude, you got married, congrats!" America smiled, and so he wouldn't have to hold the pillow to his crotch anymore, he reached for his American flag boxers.

"Idiot." England rolled his eyes and scoffed. He grabbed America's wrist forcefully and shoved the American's hand to his vision. "This isn't funny, and it doesn't even matter. Gay marriage isn't legal anyway." He let go of his hand.

"Wrong." America said quietly.

"What?" England asked.

"It's legal in Vegas." America explained. He saw the Brit's face turn red. Like, _really_ red. "Britain…?"

He balled his fists, "I'm going to kill you!" England shouted and lunged at the American. The taller blond fell onto the bed with England's hands at his throat. America tried getting him off from his straddling position on top of him.

"Fuck, England, calm down." America struggled. He flipped the Brit to where he was now the one on top. He removed the Brit's hands from his throat and pinned them down on either side of his head. England, still crimson red and screaming.

"Angleterre, Amerique~" a French accent said. They looked to the door to find France standing in the doorway of the bedroom, with an arched eyebrow and a devious smile.

"Get off of me!" England commanded and shoved America to the floor. He stood up straight. "France, this isn't what it looks like." England defended.

"Ohonhonhon, doesn't it? I just came over here because I heard yelling. Sorry to interrupt." France said and began walking out of the room.

The Brit lightly kicked the American on the floor, "Get up, git." He commanded, he headed for the door. America grumbled and struggled his way up. England opened the door, over his shoulder he coldly said, "By the way, we're getting a divorce as soon as possible."


	2. Chapter 2

England and America stood on either side of a courtroom, waiting for a judge to cancel their false marriage. "Good morning, gentlemen." The judge said. He sat in his chair and read over the case file. "You two are requesting a divorce?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." England said politely.

"It says here you two weren't even married for that long." He closed the manila folder, "Did you even _try_ to make this marriage work?"

The two glanced to each other. Both shook their heads back at the judge.

"Y'know what? I believe in the sanctity of marriage- homosexual or not- it would really pain me to just let you two out of here without giving your marriage a chance." The judge said.

"But, your honor, we only got married because we were drunk." America explained.

"It doesn't matter."

"Your honor, he's my ex-little brother… that can't be legal." England tried.

"Ex? Not by blood, I presume?" the judge wondered.

"Well, um, no." England answered.

"Well then, I see no problem in it." He said.

"So you're just gonna _force_ us to be married?" America said.

"Looks like it, Mr. Jones. You and Mr. Kirkland over here are to endure one month's worth of marriage." He pounded the gavel. "Have a nice day." He said as he left.

The blonds looked in front of them in shock. Silence befell them. "…Kirkland?" America questioned England.

"Yes, it's my last name." he said.

"Pshh, that's a lame last name!" America commented.

"Like Jones is any better! Kirkland is a far prouder name." England said.

"Jones is kick ass, especially when Alfred is the first name." America said.

"You've got to be kidding me. Alfred is nothing compared to Arthur."

America erupted in a fit of laughter, "Arthur?!" he started laughing again. "How much stiffer could you get?"

"Sod off, you insufferable git!" It's much better than Alfred." England said.

"But you're not cool enough to pull off a name like Arthur. I pull off Alfred so coolly." America said.

Britain rolled his eyes, "Ugh, I have to be married to this wanker for a month?" he said to himself.

…

After a long hours drive back to America's house, they finally arrived to the residence. England stepped out of the car and looked up to the home. It was… bigger than the expected.

America looked to the Brit who stood, looking at the house. _Damn, that whole go out for drinks thing was to make him like me more, this took it back a whole bunch. Now he hates me. _America thought. _I've got to make this up to him somehow- make this month a little easier on him._

"So, Mr. Arthur-Jones-"

"**Don't call me that." **England said with a horrible force.

"Fine… Britain, ready to go inside your home-for-a-month?" America offered.

"Ready as I'll ever be." England said dully.

England started walking to the front door when America got a sudden idea. And if it was his idea, then it must've been a good one, because he was, after all, the hero. America swooped England off his feet like a bride and went towards the door. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?! Put me down this instant!" Arthur raged. He flailed his arms until he harshly slapped the idiotic American. Upon doing so, he was dropped quickly to the floor.

"Why the hell did you drop me like that?!" England said, trying to recover from his fall.

"You told me to put you down!" America rubbed his cheek at where he got slapped.

"Not that abruptly!" he tried getting up.

"Why'd you slap me?!" America shouted.

"Because you were carrying me without my permission!" England snapped back. "Just go get my luggage already." He ordered.

"Yes, your highness." America grumbled as he went to the trunk to retrieve his husband's luggage. When he went back inside, he set all the bags on the floor near the bed. "Britain, there's going to have to be some ground rules."

"I couldn't agree more." England said with his hands on his hips.

"First off, I know its gonna be hard to resist, but you can't have none of this," He moved his hands all over in front of his body. "This sweet body is all off limits."

England rolled his eyes, "Please, don't flatter yourself. I don't want your disgusting-hamburger-filled body anyway."

"Hey, you did the first time." America said.

"Yeah, when I was drunk." England clarified. "And another ground rule: you are not sleeping in the same bed as me."

"Glad you feel that way, 'cuz you're sleeping on the couch." America said.

"_Me_?" England asked sarcastically, America nodded. "Is that any way to treat a guest? Let alone your husband? I think its you who's the one sleeping on the couch."

"What?! But it's my house!" America conflicted. England showed no sign of back down from the situation. They stared each other down for a short while until America slowly made his way to the door. "Fine, the couch is more comfortable anyway." He mumbled.

England smiled in satisfaction, "Goodnight, _sweetie_." He taunted.

"Yeah, whatever." America grumbled.

America laid down his head. The couch was, indeed, _very_ uncomfortable. His back would hurt for days after just one night of sleep on it, while _Mr. Prince_ was in his super comfy king sized bed.

_This is going to be a very long month._ He thought.

…

"America, harder!" England writhed. America was already giving his all to satisfy his one night lover. He constantly thrusted inside the British man, hitting England's right place dead-on every time. England clawed at his back, not knowing he made some incisions bleed only slightly. Both were fully screaming at this point and unaware of other people in other rooms. America slammed into the Brit over and over again with no hesitation. The American kissed his British lips and then lifted his legs high onto his shoulders.

"Are you close?" he asked his partner.

"Mm-hm." England nodded with his eyes closed and tears forming at the rims.

"Good, so am I." America's eyes were also closed, but with concentration. He harshly stroked England's … ahem, 'Big Ben'.

England gave out a choked gasp and had his semen spilled over his stomach. With his inner walls slowly tightening their grip on America's lower appendage, the larger blond came as well with a mighty arch of his back. Both utterly drenched in sweat, they shared a last passionate kiss of the night.

America sat up straight in a cold sweat and a loud gasp. He breathed heavily realizing he was back in his home, on the couch. Why was he on his couch?

"What the bloody hell do you think you were doing? You almost gave me a heart attack, wanker!" England said, already dressed for the morning.

Oh yeah, _that's _why he was on the couch, because of his new 'hubby'. America tried standing up off the couch, his back hurting incredibly.

"What was wrong with _you_?" England asked. If America didn't know any better, he could've sworn the Brit was actually being… nice.

"Uh, bad dream… _really_ bad dream." He said.

"Ugh, seriously? You have no tea? I'll have drink your over-caffeinated American coffee now." He said. Well, there went the nice factor.

America looked to England as he stretched for the box of coffee in America's cabinets. He pulled the box back… he was still wearing his ring. "You… you're still wearing your wedding ring?" he nervously asked.

"Isn't that what married people are supposed to do?" he sarcastically asked, reading the label.

"Guess so." America hid his hand, he realized he wasn't wearing his wedding band. He didn't know if it would, but he didn't feel like upsetting England by not wearing it.


	3. Chapter 3

Days dragged on with constant, childish abuse between the newly (forced) married couple. It was small things that pissed them off about each other all the time. When America was taking his shower, and England wanted to take his, the Brit would flush the toilet in another bathroom. In reaction, the water that the taller of the blonds was taking a shower in became scalding hot. Other times, it was leaving clothes all over the floor on purpose to make England pick them all up for pension of taking his bedroom. '_Well, you took my bed, so I have no choice but to lay my clothes from yesterday where I sleep'_ America would counter every time England told him it was too messy. And much more annoying pranks were pulled between the two.

The night had barely begun after they finished having a tremendous fight. It had something to do with England's cooking, America's weight, obscenities, and mad jabs at the other's ego with fierce relentlessness. They hadn't been married a week and they were a smart remark away from premeditated murder. America found his way to the couch, as per usual, with his legs to the side and him facing the television while watching a movie. His arm held him up by the armrest of the couch, his knuckles somewhat squished his left cheek.

Britain wiped a small drop of sweat from his forehead, "Finally dishes are all done." He mused, though America could care less. He closed the dishwasher's door with a loud shut and walked in the living to sit on the couch and watch the movie as well. He forcefully pushed America's feet off the sofa andx sat cross-legged a few feet away from him. "What are you watching?" England asked.

"Texas Chainsaw Massacre." America answered.

Britain scoffed and rolled his eyes with his arms folded across his chest, "You know you can't watch scary movies without weeing in your pants." He remarked.

"Shut up! I totally can!" America retorted.

"Bull shit. You get scared by my little Halloween tricks. There's no way you can handle this movie." England said with a smirk.

"Twenty bucks says I can." America offered.

"What am I going to need American money for?" He asked sarcastically.

"You're gonna be in America for a while, you'll find a way to spend it. Besides, I'm not even gonna lose twenty dollars because I can _so_ handle this movie." America reasoned.

"Fine, the sight of your pants being soiled will be payment enough to top money with it is going to be brilliant." England had already stitched a victory smile on his face.

Not even thirty minutes into the horror movie, America's knees were super glued to his chest and his hands were on the sides of his head. A not so silent mantra of _'It's not real! It's not real!_' came through his mouth time and again. His fingers curled into his hair, gripping it as if he were hanging onto a ledge of a 100 story building. His eyes had a horrible fright to them in a way that no one should bear.

"Oh, come one, America! The scary parts haven't even started yet!" England chastised.

"But they're coming, I've seen the trailers for it! It could pop out at any moment now!" America shut his eyes tight and shook his head, "England, make it go away!"

Britain looked to the man, except he wasn't a man anymore. In the Brit's eyes, America looked like in a few seconds he transformed back into the little boy England raised long ago shouting to make the nightmares go away or the shadows that were plotting to come after him from his closet. England pursed his lips and shut the TV off, not caring where it went, he tossed the remote controller away. On the couch, he sat on his knees, stoking America's hair the way he did when the American was a boy.

"It's okay, America. It's just a movie." He hushed. He brought the adult man to his chest. He kept repeating, "It's okay." to calm the terrified nation. He tried making his way to the kitchen, but America grabbed his wrist.

"Wh-where are you going?" the poor lad looked like he had tears forming at the rims of his eyes.

"I'm going to get you some warm milk, that's all. I'll be right back." England assured America. With a deep swallowing of excess saliva, America nodded and held back onto his knees. After almost five minutes, England came back to the room with a glass of warmed milk and passed it to America.

After a big gulp of the dairy product, America removed the drink from his lips with a sigh. "Thanks." He quietly told England.

"It's alright. I told you that movie was too much for you." He said.

America nodded, "Damn, I owe you twenty bucks." He said and England chuckled.

"Do you want me to stay in the room until you fall asleep?" England queried.

"No, that's alright. I think I can manage. Besides, we're not in Texas, no massacres involving chainsaws are comin' anywhere near us." America said.

England stood in the direction of the bedroom. He looked over his shoulder with a worried look at America. "Are you sure you'll be fine?" he asked.

"Yeah, don't worry 'bout me." America said.

Slowly, England made his way back to the bedroom to go to sleep. Although this night they had seemed to be caring of one another, don't be mistaken, the next morning they went immediately back to be practically enemies for the time being.

Britain shifted a smidge in the huge bed at nine in the morning. A small trace of a smile graced the lower half of his face. It would've been a full smile if a certain American nation hadn't blown an air horn in the room. England's eyes had never opened so quickly. If it wasn't so big he would've fallen off the bed.

"Morning, sunshine!" America exclaimed into the room with a bright smile. England full on growled at the wakeup call and chucked a pillow at the door. America reflexed by shutting the door as soon as the pillow headed towards him, he opened the door back open and poked his head in the room. "C'mon, lazy bones, we got to go shopping!"

With his face in the pillows, England asked, "For what?"

"For clothes. For you." America said with a hand on his hip, the other still on the door knob. "So c'mon… let's go. Chop chop!" he pressed the button on the air horn briefly again and left the room. England piled his head back down into the pillows, very hard.

That afternoon, they started clothes shopping at a close by department store. England was left behind almost every five minutes when America went off to find different garments. Feet behind the sprinting America, England spoke to his back, "America, why do we need to buy clothes for me? What's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"It's all you have left. You only planned on staying a week or so, not a whole month. You can't keep wearing the same things over and over." America explained.

England scowled, but followed America anyway. After three hours and two horribly swollen British feet, they left the store with a whole month's worth of wardrobe for England. He hated the selection, but America insisted he'd get beaten up if he kept the clothes he was wearing now. He wasn't sure he'd even owned a pair of jeans until now.

Reluctantly, England stepped out of the dressing room with an annoyed face, "Well?"

"Ehhh, not as cool as I look, but it'll do." America critiqued.

England rolled his eyes and closed the curtains to change back into his slacks, button shirt and sweater vest. They walked their way back to America's car, but the younger decided to stop straight in front of a shop. England was almost four feet away before he realized his 'husband' wasn't next to him. He turned around to face America. "America…?"

"England! Let's get frozen yogurt!" America suggested excitedly as he pointed to the neon sign that read '_Yummy Frozen Yogurt!'_.

"Can we not? I don't like ice cream." England declined.

"You don't like anything! Besides, it's not ice cream! It's frozen yogurt!" America said.

"It's the same thing!" Britain, persisted to prove the young man wrong, said. It fell on deaf ears, for the American had already rushed into the frozen yogurt shop. The Brit rolled his eyes and shook his head, following the overly excited nation for the umpteenth time that day. He watched as the 'adult' picked out his favorite flavors of the frozen dairy treat like a child. Somewhere in the mix he decided to get a strawberry banana combination of frozen yogurt (which seemed strange to him because it was purple for some reason). He had some kiwis and strawberries on top of it. Simple, yet it looked delicious.

America's on the other hand… it was chaos. The flavor was literally titled "Death by Chocolate". He put Oreos, Snickers, M&Ms, Chocolate chips, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, Gummi Bears, and Chocolate syrup on top of it. England felt he had diabetes just by looking at it. They finally started walking back to the car as they finished buying their frozen yogurt.

"America, you got way too much." England chuckled.

"You didn't get enough, dude!" America laughed. At their own pace, the two ate while walking to the parking spot.

"No, you've always eaten more than you should. Remember when you were younger, you tried eating an entire birthday cake by yourself." England reminisced.

"Yeah. That's 'cuz your cooking was so terrible that I needed good food in order to be fed." America said.

"My cooking is just fine! It's so much better than those greasy hamburgers." England said once they made it to the car.

America sat down in the driver's seat and put his seat belt on, "Don't diss the burger!" he jokingly warned.

England breathed a laugh. But when America looked at him smiling, he quickly stopped smiling and then looked forward. He wasn't exactly sure why he did that that day.

'_So one week's down, two more to go. I can't wait to get him out of my hair'_ America and England thought at the same time.

**Haven't updated this story for a while, sorry for that, but here's the new chapter now. Hope you liked it. Wasn't it adorable how England comforted America when he was scared? :3 Well, I thought it was cute. You guys, summer is almost here! Hope you all have a great one, if you have special plans you think are gonna be super cool, I'd love to know about them in the reviews or you can PM me. Mine's probably not going to be all that great, but I can't complain.**

**Favorite, Follow, Review please! It would be soo nice and would make me smile. BTW, whoever has already reviewed/followed/favorited whether it be this story or a different one or multiple ones, THANK YOU SO MUCH! IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME! **


	4. Chapter 4

**America POV**

Okay, so, is it me or... has England gotten like... hot?

Well, not like _hot_ hot. Not like Scarlett Johansson hot, but more like cute boy next door hot. I don't know why I started noticing it, but I just did. Don't be hatin'. A man has the right to think his husband's hot, right? We've only been married a week now, he still irks the hell out of me. Then, there's some times when he's not doing anything annoying or crazy (like when he's talking to himself for no effing reason) that he's just peaceful and... I dunno. I shouldn't be thinking like this. He's a country, I'm a country. We're sorta... business partners in a way. And then, on the other hand, there's no harm in it. It's just thoughts, and he is my husband for a month. God damn, I'm so confused about all this!

I started noticing it I guess the other day when I was about to pull off his 'wake up call' yet another morning. If you don't know what I mean, every morning I sneak into my room (that _he's_ occupying) and press the red button on an air horn to wake him up, it's a small prank big deal. That morning, I peeked my head and air horn holding hand in the doorway. Snickering to myself, I looked to England sleeping in my bed. I almost put in my earplugs when I take a double take back to his sleeping face. His arms are wrapped around one of my pillows and his face is slightly buried in it. His little pink lips pout some, but they look like they're smiling a bit. He takes in a short breath and then snuggles deeper into the pillow. His hair's kinda messed up, but somehow it looks like it was on purpose. His hair is always like that, so damn cooperative (unlike my cowlick). His legs take form as if he's in a lazy fetal position.

NO! Too descriptive, dude! Stop thinking about how he looks like an adorable little baby! Think about something cooler, like fighter jets or those awesome holograms Japan's got in his country of that long blue haired chick.

I look at the air horn in my hand and then put it away with a slight grimace, "I guess I'll let you sleep in a while today." I whisper as I sneak my way out. I go back to the couch and watch TV for thirty or so minutes, long enough until he walks in.

He stretches with his arms above his head, "Mmm, it was nice to at least have one morning where I wasn't rudely awakened." he smiles. That's weird. It kinda... made my heart beat a little faster for a second there.

I slouch deeper into the couch, "Whatever." I say and change the channel. "That just means tomorrow's gonna be even worse than all the other mornings."

He chuckles, "Sure, it will be." He sits on the lounge chair and starts watching TV with me.

"So, uh... what do ya want to today?" I ask him.

"Beats me. It's your country, what do you do for fun?" he counter-asks.

"We can... go to the beach." I suggest. No, not just because I want to see him in the bathing suit I bought him the other day, perverts. 'Cuz it was the first thing that came to my mind.

* * *

Somehow I got him to agree to come with me. Surprisingly, there aren't that many people at the beach today. He sets up two chairs under an umbrella and puts our bags on the sand. Almost immediately, he's sitting in the lawn chair and starts reading a magazine. I thought this dude was hot? He's such a bore! Who goes to the beach to just read a magazine?! "You're just gonna sit there and read?" I ask. Not only is he just sitting there, he's wearing a jacket and his swim trunks.

"What's wrong with that? You can go have fun in the water, I don't mind. I'm completely happy right here." He buried his face deeper in his magazine.

I sigh and roll my eyes, I pull my surfboard out of the sand. "Fine, be back in a little while."

"Wait, America! Put on sun screen first." He said, standing from the chair and digging for sun lotion. He presents the bottle for me. I almost put my hand out to take it but he squirts some out before I can. He takes off his jacket and smooths it over his shoulders and over his visible body. Watching his hands go all over, I got red before even stepping in the sun.

"I'll be alright." I turn around and head for the waves.

"America, you're going to burn!" he shouts a warning. I only waive my hand at him.

I sit on my surfboard (her name's Debby) and wait for a nice wave to come in. Once I spot it, I swim my way towards it. When I stand up on Debby, the wave lifts up about five feet higher in the air. It's so awesome, I even get in the tunnel of the water. When I'm almost out of it, I turn my head to England. He's looking at me, not at the magazine anymore. His face seems impressed. I smirk and try out even cooler moves to show off. I guess I showed off too much, 'cuz I slipped into the water.

Of course, after I resurfaced the water and found Debby again, I swam over back to England. I set Debby into the ground and shook my wet hair, some of it got on him. "You're not gonna swim at all?" I ask him.

"No." he returns to his magazine.

"Why not?" I ask.

"Because..." he buries his face deeper into the magazine again, "I can't swim." he whispers.

I look at him for a few seconds until I start bursting in laughter. "Are you kidding me?!"

"What?!" He brings his face from the magazine, "A lot of people can't swim!"

"Yeah, but they haven't been alive as long as you have! You were a pirate for cryin' out loud!" I tease.

"I'm not scared of the water, I just can't swim in it." he looks away.

I grab his hand and pull him out of his chair, "C'mon, let's go." I instruct him.

"Wha- America, stop! I don't want to go in the water!" He persists.

"I'm gonna teach you how to swim, whether you like it or not." I say, dragging him in the water. He tries to pry my hand, but we both know I'm stronger than him. I manage to get him in the water, not without an earful of rude remarks and rejections to the idea. "Look, you're already in the water, just relax." I tell him, he seems to start calming down. Well, except when a wave (even if it's a small one) comes to shore. It doesn't really count as swimming since he can just stand in the water and it goes to his shoulders, but at least he's in the water. He looks to the water and smiles. An actual smile!

"Ha! This is actually fun, America!" He says. He starts swimming to deeper waters, of course I go with him.

"Uh, England you might want to watch out, that's usually where the big waves are." I point out to where the waves are. He looks out to them, but doesn't grant me a response to my warning. We swim for a little while longer, almost half an hour, until he decides he wants to get out. "Alright. We can go home now." I tell him. He starts to swim to the shore, naturally I'm ahead of him being the faster swimmer, and all of a sudden he starts screaming.

"America!" he yells. I look behind, not fast enough to be hit by gigantic frickin' wave and go under and swept away. After like fifteen swirls of my body, I stop and swim up so I can get some air in my lungs. After my head is above the surface, I start to look for Britain. I don't see him anywhere. This isn't good, where the hell is he? I call his name a few times, when I say call I mean yell out frantically. I finally decide to go underwater and search for him. I probably shouldn't be opening my eyes under water but, my husband's drowning somewhere dammit! I found him struggling to breath, bubbles escaping his mouth. I swim as fast as I can to him, like a torpedo. I grab his hand and wrap it around my shoulders, and then help him out of the water. I get us to the shore and _now_ the lifeguard comes to help now hat he can see the passed out guy on my shoulder.

"Get away from him! It's too late for _you_ to do your job now." I snap at him. I lower my head to his chest and listen for his heartbeat. It's beating, thank God. I meet my lips to his. Not like a kiss or anything, don't get those ideas! I just give him mouth to mouth so he can breath, that's all! I do this over and over again until he starts coughing up water. He opens his eyes, and wrinkles his nose. If it weren't for the fact that he just almost drowned, it would be adorable.

"America?" he asks in confusion. I breathe out a sigh of relief. He leans up and tries to stand up, although he fails because he's got a big gash on his knee. I take the first aid kit from the lifeguard and try picking Britain up and taking him to the bathroom so I can patch him up. He sits up on the counter with a towel wrapped around him. I'm on one knee to be level with his knee that's mildly gushing out blood. I wipe up the trails of blood and around the wound with cold water. I spray disinfectant on it and then put the band aid on.

"What'd you cut your knee on anyway?" I ask while playing doctor.

"I don't know, a piece of glass left at the bottom of the water." he shrugs.

I stand up and look at him for a second. He's not looking at me, just pouting off to the side. Don't know what I'm thinkin' in this moment, but I just hug him. It clearly caught him off guard. "Um, America?" he asks.

"I got really scared went you went under and I couldn't find you." I whisper against his ear and tighten my grip around him slightly.

He pats my back like that makes me feel better. "I'm fine now, you don't have to worry." he assures me. I don't really stop worrying but he wants to go home so I have to stop hugging him, get our stuff, and give the lifeguard his first aid kit back.

The day after that, I found out I had a sunburn.

**Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, that probably wasn't very good. I just had no inspiration for this chapter and didn't know where I was going as soon as I got to it. I thought I was going to upload more over my summer vacation, but there was laziness, camp, procrastination, and church involved. My summer only has about a month left, and I'm cherishing every minute of it.**

**I was also preoccupied being freaking excited about Kate and William's baby who was born a day before my 2nd cousin. I was also getting into Doctor Who and Sherlock, they're my new favorite shows lol but they still can't beat The Walking Dead.**

**I hope you enjoyed the chapter for what it's worth, reviews, favorites, and follows would make my heart beat fast.**


	5. Chapter 5

**England's POV**

Things... just haven't been the same since the beach. I'm not meaning that near death experience people get and suddenly want to live life to the fullest by putting themselves in even more danger, actually it hasn't really effected me in the slightest... but it's apparently taken its toll on America. He hasn't woken me up with that blasted air horn since. He always lets me take the shower first and doesn't flush the loo in the other room while I'm taking it. If I dare say, he's been an actual nice host to his guest, finally. Come to think of it, he's been acting sort of like a mum to me since.

"I made you some breakfast." he said. I looked to a _buffet_ of breakfast food: my plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, three bacon strips, and hash browns. Along with five (rather large) plates with pancakes, waffles, sausage, toast, scones, and strawberry frosted Pop Tarts. He left a bowl empty and resting next to almost four different kinds of cereals and a gallon of milk. He had a tub of butter and a jar of jelly (of which there were many varieties of flavours). And to top it all off, an empty drinking glass and a bottle of orange juice next to it.

"So you did." I slightly chuckle. "Thank you." I pick up the fork next to the plate and decide to start with the eggs he prepared.

"Don't eat too fast," he says, rushed, before I let the fork enter my mouth, "I don't want you to choke on anything." he says slower and innocently.

I look at him for a moment, I give him a reassuring smile, "America, I'm a grown man. I think I can eat breakfast at a normal rate by myself." I tell him and then take a bite of the eggs.

He looks down and then back up to me. "Oh, I guess you can." He sits down on the chair next to me. One elbow is one the table and his palm is holding his chin up, his other hand is soothingly rubbing his bicep. He probably thinks that I don't know he's just watching me eat.

I take another bite of toast, I put my hand over my mouth and I ask him, "Aren't you going to eat something?"

"Oh, I really didn't even consider me eating breakfast." he shrugs at his carelessness.

"You really expected me to eat all of this alone?" I questioned. "Please have some at least." I offer him his own meal. He gets up to retrieve a plate for himself and piles a surprisingly suitable amount on the plate. "So, what are we going to do today?" I ask him casually.

"I was going to go hang out with Tony, but now I don't really feel like it. I'd rather just hang around the house." he leans back in the chair. I take a bite of a scone he's prepared. Dammit... they're delicious. "I tried really hard on those scones. Did they turn out alright?" he asks.

"Well, not as good as mine, but yes they're good." I tell him.

"When I baked them, no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get the same blackness on them like yours do." he innocently says like he didn't just insult my cooking.

My eyebrow twitches as I stare at him menacingly, "Well, it's an expertise." I say and return to eating. An awkward silence between us ensues until he breaks it.

"William called." he nervously says.

"Oh? And what did he want?" I ask curiously. He doesn't answer and I look up to his face, it looks at me like I'm an idiot. Oh, shit. I am an idiot. "No. Kate went into labor?!"

He nods, "Yeah. She actually already had the baby."

I cover my forehead with my hands, "Shit, I promised them I'd be there." I exhale.

He's silent for a minute, "I explained to him why you couldn't be there, well not in full detail, but he said he'd send me the video." I look up to him. He gets up to get his laptop and when he comes back he cleared enough space for it to be placed. He pressed play.

I watched as Kate and William were in the emergency room, about to have the new prince welcomed into the world. With every second of the video passing, I found myself closer and closer to tears. "I don't like watching this part." America tells me. I look back to the screen of the baby's head coming out of it's mother. Child birth was really a... gross... miracle. Kate looks almost passed out as William holds the baby in his arms, he smiles back to the camera and waves with the baby's arm. The screen goes black.

I close the laptop cup my hands over my mouth. I wipe away some tears that fell down my cheek. Without even thinking, I wrap my arms around America's neck and cry even harder in his hair.

"England... c'mon. This doesn't look cool at all." he chuckles nervously.

"I'm sorry." I pull away chuckling, sniffling, and wiping my eyes all at the same time. "I think,... I just think my heart melted for a moment there." He takes his laptop and puts it away somewhere nearby. "What did you have in mind for us today?" I stand up and make my way into the living room. "We don't have that much longer together."

"I know. It's just, today, I felt like staying in tonight and chillin'." he sits on the sofa and kicks his legs up.

I look around the house, unsettled about the hygiene level. America decided since I was to take his bed, he had to make the living room his bedroom. The result showed exactly that. "Well, you can sit around all day if you like, but this place needs a good cleaning and I just wouldn't feel right if I left it in the condition it's in now."

"You're gonna clean my house?" he says with his brow arched.

"Someone's got to." I say. I head to the kitchen to retrieve the broom and dust pan. "And I'd appreciate it if you helped." I go to start sweeping, he sits there for a few moments and then stands and picks up clothes he's left on the floor. We actually had a fair sharing of jobs today: I cleaned the kitchen (including the floor, the dishes and the counter tops), he cleaned the living room. He did both of our laundry, I cleaned the bedroom and bathroom. Just to be sure, I checked every room he did to ensure maximum cleanliness.

I walk down the hall for the last load of laundry and come across a room I didn't even know was there until now. Just outside the door, I set down the basket and gently turn the knob. A small cloud of dust blows in my face, but I step in anyway. There's cobwebs and dust layers everywhere. What really caught my eye first: a chest with an old firearm leaning on it. I bend down on my knees and hold it in my hands. I wiped off some dust and see a large crack on it. I did this. This has a crack on it because of me, when I pointed my firearm at him. I quickly put it back against the wall. I check the chest next and when I open it, no surprise, it has dust all in it as well. Scrounging through it I find America's Revolution outfit, and under that a small house. Inside the house, the small soldiers I made him years ago. I'd thought he gotten rid of these long ago.

"England...?!" I hear him call from another room. Quickly, I place everything back where it was and rush out of the room. I manage to pick up the laundry basket before he finds me. "Oh, hey, there you are! All I got left to do is wash my car and then we can have a lazy day, alright." he says.

"Sounds good. Let me just finish this laundry and I'll help you." I say.

"Cool." he shrugs and walks away. I breathe a sigh of relief that he didn't ask me what I was doing in there.

* * *

I step outside and see him with a watering hose and a bucket of soapy water in his hands. "Ready?" he asks me.

I nod, "Yeah.". I grabbed a sponge in another bucket of water and make my way to the car. I start rubbing the bonnet (or hood for the American readers) and he's on the other side, also lathering. As I wash around in a circle, he's snickering into his hand, "What is it?" I ask him.

"Iggy, you got something on your shirt." he chuckles.

I look down to my casual shirt and examine where he was referring to, seeing nothing. "What are you talking about?"

"There." he points the hose onto my shirt and soaks me with water. He laughs even harder.

"America!" I yell.

"Lighten up, we're washing a car- you're gonna get wet." he shrugged like I was the dumb one. He laughs the nasally laugh that he has, well he was until I threw the bucket of soapy water all over him. That'll teach him.

We must've spent almost an hour just having a water fight, we barely got the car any cleaner than it already was. Splashing each other with the hose or the bucket of water. We ended up sitting against the car on the ground in a fit of laughter, soaking wet. "We didn't even clean the car, we got too distracted." I finish laughing.

"I'll drive it up to the gas station later and run it through the car wash." He's able to breathe with out laughing now, "Man, it was worth it though. That was so much fun." We had a last few chuckles left in us until America spoke again, "Well, let's go get dry and hang out for the rest of the day." he lifts himself from the ground and then offers me a hand up. When I took it, he hurled me up a little to much and we were chest to chest. A little too close for my comfort, but for some reason I didn't pull away or shy away from his gaze on me. My eyes couldn't stay still, they constantly looked back and forth from his eyes to his lips. To make matters worse, my brain wouldn't shut up about wanting to kiss him.

He blinked and turned dark red. He let go of my hand, "Uh, w-well, um... guess we should get inside. R-right." he stuttered and made his way back in the house. I was left there with my eyebrows furrowed and my mouth agape like I was going to say something to make him turn around but couldn't say a word. I shook my head and followed him into the house.

As I walked in, I stepped to the bathroom and upon entering he tossed me a towel. He already had one on his head and with every stroke of the towel on his head, the messier it would get. I rub the towel across my face and then into my hair as well. "I think I'm going to rest a little bit." I say quietly.

"Okay. I'll call you when dinner's ready." America told me.

"Thank you." I walked away. After I got out of those soaking clothes and into some warm new ones, I sat on the bed and ran my hands over the sheets. I rested my head on the pillow and turned over on my stomach. My face was buried as far as it could go in the pillows.

"Fuck. I'm in love with America."

**Just shoot me now. Go ahead. I'm so sorry for putting this shit chapter up after two months. I couldn't think of what they could do together because I have an idea for what their last day together will be but getting to that point... I have no inspiration for. So, feel free to decapitate me as soon as possible. It's okay, I'll wait.**

**If you feel like leaving a review, that would be so cool. Ideas for what they can do before their last day together would help me out SOOOOO much because I can think of a frickin' thing! .  
**


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